There’s something no one tells you when you’re holding that positive pregnancy test, dreaming about your future with a baby—your body is about to embark on the wildest journey it’s ever been on. Sure, I knew I’d gain weight, but I figured once Kylie was here, everything would just snap back. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
As I stood in front of the mirror a few weeks postpartum, holding up my favorite pre-pregnancy jeans with a sort of hopeful disbelief, I realized something: the body that once felt like mine was now foreign territory. Every curve was different, every line had changed, and I couldn’t shake the nagging thought, “Will I ever look like myself again?”
Postpartum weight gain is one of those things that everyone mentions in passing, like an asterisk to the miracle of childbirth. But here’s the truth: it’s not just about the weight. It’s about how you feel in your own skin. For me, the extra pounds weren’t just physical; they were emotional. They represented the changes motherhood had brought—beautiful, yes, but also overwhelming.
Suddenly, I was juggling this new identity as Kylie’s mom, while trying to remember who I was before. I wasn’t the same woman who could drop everything for a Pilates class or go for an impromptu run whenever I wanted. My days were now filled with feedings, diaper changes, and managing the intricate schedule of a newborn. Finding time to work out? Let’s just say that felt as mythical as unicorns or the concept of eight hours of sleep.
It’s funny how, in the world of new motherhood, everyone tells you to focus on your baby. “The weight will come off eventually,” they say. “You’re a mom now. Don’t worry about it.” And while I get it—Kylie is absolutely the most important part of my world—it doesn’t erase the fact that I still want to feel good in my own body. But how do you navigate postpartum life without feeling guilty about wanting to prioritize yourself?
The reality is, postpartum weight loss isn’t linear. It’s messy, and sometimes it’s downright frustrating. After trying—and failing—to squeeze back into my old jeans, I realized I had to stop measuring myself by pre-pregnancy standards. This body? It created life. It stretched, it grew, it nourished my daughter. Maybe the real goal isn’t to “get my body back,” but to embrace the body I have now, with all its changes and stories.
That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my health. Far from it. But I’m learning to approach it with grace. For the first time, I’m focusing less on a number on the scale and more on how I feel. I’m finding new ways to move, like taking walks with Kylie or squeezing in short workouts during nap time. It’s less about “bouncing back” and more about moving forward—finding strength in this new chapter.
And here’s something else I’ve discovered along the way: confidence doesn’t come from fitting into a certain size. It comes from owning where you are right now, postpartum body and all. Yes, I’ve got extra pounds. Yes, my clothes fit differently. But when I look at Kylie, I’m reminded of what this body has done. And that? That’s something to be proud of.
So, if you’re a new mom standing in front of the mirror, struggling to recognize the body staring back at you, know this: you’re not alone. The weight of it all—literal and figurative—can feel like a lot. But you don’t have to rush to “bounce back.” Instead, take it one step at a time, honoring the body that brought you here. And remember, confidence isn’t about perfection—it’s about finding strength in the beautiful mess that is motherhood.
